


Sing Your Sorrow When All Your Tears Run Dry

by Morvith



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Attempted Murder, BAMF Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Blood, Do Not Piss Off Zelda, Except the Yiga Clan, F/M, How do you say "avete rotto il cazzo" in Hylian?, Kidnapping, King Roham Bosphoramus Hyrule's A+ Parenting, Murder, Psychic Bond, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Sleeping Beauty Link, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, The Yiga Clan Dies A Lot, The Yiga Clan Done Fucked Up, Zelda is Done with this shit, angry Zelda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvith/pseuds/Morvith
Summary: A Yiga ambush on Mount Lanayru leaves Link at death's door. Zelda uses her newly-awakened power in a desperate gamble to save him before rushing off to her battle with the Calamity Ganon.When she returns, victory is soured by dire news: her knight is missing, presumed dead. However, Zelda knows Link is still alive, albeit trapped in a healing sleep he might not be able to break on his own, and she will stop at nothing to find him and awaken him, no matter how long it takes.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter 1

_And he has tried to swim the stream_

_And he swam on both strong and steady,_

_but the river was deep and strength did fail_

_And never more he'll see his lady._

_Oh woe betide the willow wand_

_And woe betide the bush and briar_

_For they broke beneath my true love's hand_

_When strength did fail and limb did tire_

_And woe betide you,[Annan Waters](https://morvith.tumblr.com/post/620572184631525376/kate-rusby-annan-waters%20)_

She used to call him _The Silent Ghost_ behind his back – not that she would have cared if he had known, back then.

Later, when things between them improved, when she finally saw _Link_ underneath _Hylia's Chosen One_ , she had never found the courage to ask him if he knew, to apologise. (Another failure among many, yet this one rankles and burns right here, right now)

Though she has heard his voice and, most importantly, learned to understand how he truly spoke – the lightning-quick, there-and-gone curve of his mouth, the arch of an eyebrow, the set of his shoulders – she had never stopped wishing he would talk more.

She could have gone her whole life without knowing what he sounds like when he screams.

Link is good, he is fast and strong, but he is just one man alone and the Yiga keep coming and coming and coming, like the waves of the sea, as numerous as the raindrops falling around them and muffling the sounds of the fight.

They are alone on the mountain. Surrounded. Trapped.

Link's bow lies broken somewhere behind the lines blocking their path to the Sacred Spring. His Royal shield is riddled with dents, gouges and arrows and will not hold much longer. The Master Sword sings through the air, cutting through Yiga after Yiga after Yiga, and still they come with their sickles, their blades, their swords and their arrows. So many arrows. If it wasn't already raining, they'd blot out the sun.

For all its mystical powers, the Master Sword won't wield itself and whoever does is still flesh and bone. The Champion can still bleed.

Enough wounds will work just as well as a single fatal one.

Potions are useless if there's no time to take them.

No man alone can hold out forever against such an assault. Link will go down fighting, but go down he eventually will.

Zelda knows. Link knows, she can see it in the way he grits his teeth, the stubborn tilt of his head, his laboured breathing. He still won't give up.

For one mad moment, Zelda thought to order him to run, to leave her, get to safety and let her give herself up in his place – what does it matter if the Yiga kill her since she is useless anyway?

She knows now it wouldn't work. The Yiga are not here for her. It doesn't mean they'll let her walk away, but she is more of an extra bonus than their primary objective.

She is not sure Link has realized that, yet. Not that it would matter: he will never leave her. Everything he has, he will give, he will fight until his last drop of blood, until his last breath.

For her, and she can do nothing but huddle in the small crevice where he pushed her, clutching the knife he pressed in her hand before he turned back to face their enemies. Zelda thinks of Impa's lessons long ago, of her own bow and arrows locked up in the castle armoury because a priestess does not go armed on pilgrimage and they were just another distraction anyway.

She watches Link dodge a sword, two, three, but the fourth gets through and another thin red line opens on his arm.

_Hylia, please, I beg you, he is your Champion, yours, **you** chose him, if you ever loved him, if you ever cared do something, take me instead but save him..._

She is beyond praying, beyond ritual words and chants that never worked anyway. She watches Link's blood drip in the mud, drop after drop washed down by the rain.

More blades. More arrows. More blood. The shield breaks.

_**HYLIA!!!** _

Link parries, turns the back strike into a counter-attack, dodges. Another arrow pierces his chest, the next his stomach. His lips part and no sound comes – perhaps he hurts so much that two more wounds barely register, perhaps he has no strength to scream.

Parry, parry, backwards and backwards. One last desperate sweep.

Link falls.

He doesn't slip or stumble, he simply collapses in the mud, his legs no longer supporting him. His hand still clutches the Master Sword, all muscles tremble and strain in effort to raise it again, to stand and fight.

A Yiga closes in, his sword ready to deliver the final blow, and Zelda springs from her shelter with a wordless scream.

It's desperate and mad and utterly pointless, but Zelda cannot do anything else. Even if prayer has failed once more, she will not die cowering. If the Yiga want Link, they can have him, they can have them both, but first they'll have to go through her.

So she lunges forward, one hand raised to grab the sword arm and Link's knife clutched in the other, aimed at the warrior's stomach.

The world explodes in light.

Zelda cannot tell whether it lasts a moment or an hour, she just... feels it, in every fibre of her being and every corner of her soul. It's an erupting volcano, a gale, a flooding river, a raging sandstorm and she can only let herself be swept up, higher and higher.

When her sight clears again, she is standing alone with one hand raised against nothing, Yiga weapons scattered all around.

She can feel the Triforce symbol burning on the back of her hand, its power flowing in her veins, under her skin and she grasps it tightly as she spins on her heel and falls to her knees on the wet ground.

“LINK!”

He's still breathing. His heart still beats, though feebly, irregularly. Zelda thinks frantically of the potions he carried in his ripped bag, even the Shrine of Resurrection – too far, much too far, might as well reach for the moon.

So she reaches for something much closer, wraps her arms around him and _pushes._

The Triforce, the Divine Energy, whatever it is, it tries to resist, it squirms and writhes. Somewhere in her head, the familiar voice of self doubt whispers that this is not how her powers are meant to be used.

Zelda is having none of it.

_My power now. It works however I fucking say it does._

She keeps holding it, keeps shaping it and pushing.

The world fades away again: there's no more rain, no wind, no cold, only the light and the soft beat of Link's heart, growing stronger.


	2. Chapter 2

_I still will be your shelter_

_Through rain and through storm_

_And with you in your cold grave_

_I cannot sleep warm_

[ _I am stretched out on your grave_ ](https://morvith.tumblr.com/post/620931083297603584/kate-rusby-i-am-stretched-on-your-grave)

_and I'll lie here forever_

_If your hands were in mine_

_I'd be sure they would not sever_

_My apple tree, my brightness_

_It's time we were together_

Later, they will tell her that the light pierced the clouds and was seen all the way to Hyrule Castle.

From the East Gate, where they had parted ways just the day before and the Champions awaited their return, it had been as bright as the rising sun. Urbosa, seized by a nameless dread, had insisted they all set off immediately and rush up Mount Lanayru.

Even when the rain let up, it had taken them hours to find them.

One day she will sit in Revali's house at the Rito Village, a steaming cup of tea in her hands, and Revali will haltingly tell her that they found her lying across Link's body in wide a circle of scorched grass and abandoned Yiga weapons. When they had tried to pull her away, she had screamed as though her soul was being ripped from her body and fought them off blindly, desperately. The knife in her hand had missed Urbosa and shattered against Daruk's rock-solid hand by pure chance.

He'll tell her she hadn't calmed down until they managed to splash her with some water from the sacred spring, that Mipha had rushed to Link's side and tried to heal him, but her magic had been rejected, pushed away by something that was already there and would allow no interference.

He'll tell her she didn't let anybody else touch him after that, even though he had offered to fly him back to the Castle himself: the only way to get them down that thrice-damned mountain had been build a makeshift litter and carry him that way. She had walked next to the litter, constantly keeping one hand on Link's chest as though making sure that his heart still beat. As though her hand was the only think that made it beat.

But that's for another day.

When Zelda opens her eyes – and how strange it is to say so when they weren't closed in first place, but that's what it feels like – they are standing before the East Gate as the ground shakes. She is not surprised to see her Champions around her, nor is she scared.

Hyrule Castle stands tall and proud as always, the Royal banners fluttering in the breeze, roofs and turrets glinting in the sun.

Part of her feels as though she is still floating a long way away, as though it were a dream. She blinks, and the image before her eyes changes.

They are at the Castle, though she doesn't remember the journey there. The King speaks, but she cannot hear him.

She has her own orders to give. It's a struggle to get the words out, her voice never rises above a whisper. The Champions' eyes flash.

She will be obeyed.

She blinks, and Link lies on the bed in one of the Royal suites, his Champion's tunic a pile of bloody rags on the floor. He looks too pale, too still. The blood has been washed away from his skin but she can still see the scars where blades and arrows bit into his flesh.

She holds the Master Sword in her hands. The ground shakes again.

She blinks, and she is walking through the castle, her footsteps echoing in the empty halls. Stairs, seemingly endless flights of stairs and she climbs down, down, down, under the kitchens and the dungeons, under the whole castle. She has never been here before, no one has in centuries, yet she knows the way like a hound knows the trail of the wolf.

When Calamity Ganon breaks free, he doesn't go far: she is already there, waiting, her power coiled around her. She lets it rise higher and higher, buoyed by more than a decade worth of anger, self-doubt and sorrow, and lets it crash down on him like a storm tide.

Later, there will be rumours she punched Calamity Ganon straight in the face and knocked him back into his prison. Zelda will never know where it came from – though she will suspect Daruk – and will never bother to correct it. She will never say there was nothing that could be even vaguely recognized as a face, or that it felt more like holding him down and drowning him, over and over again.

It's not as easy, especially with her power partially diverted. Especially with the empty spot by her side, where the wielder of the Master Sword ought to be. Still, she manages. If not defeated, Ganon is sealed again and will stay there, at least for a time.

That's fine, though, that's good. They need time so she can learn how to use her power – she's not entirely sure what she did on Mount Lanayru, she only knows that part of her power has gone into Link, keeping him alive. She didn't _seal_ him, not quite. It feels like... like the string of a kite, binding them both. There will be no more need of that now. They are back at the Castle now, they are safe, they have all of Hyrule's best healers and researchers at their disposal. There's time, Link can rest, Link can heal. Link will wake up and then they will come back and put Ganon down properly.

_I hold him down and you stab him_ , she thinks feverishly, deliriously, as she climbs up the stairs. Will Link laugh when she tells him? She hopes so. She has never heard him laugh.

She blinks against the light, her vision swimming. Dark blue uniforms – the Royal Guard, though she cannot see their faces. Zelda closes her eyes and lets go, chasing the faint sound of a beating heart into the darkness.

For a while, she sleeps. It feels like a long time, but what is a mere day and night compared with a week-long battle?

Zelda wakes up in her bed, the light streaming in through her window. The Royal suites are quiet, far away from the noise of the lower courtyards and the training grounds, but she can still hear birds chirping, the muffled steps of the guards walking their rounds.

For the first time in days, she feels rested, at peace. She feels herself, even with the mystic power flowing gently under her skin. She smiles to herself and reaches for it, searches for the small string that binds her and her knight. His heart still beats, slow, steady and peaceful.

She sits up and throws off her covers, severely startling Impa, who has been keeping watch by her bedside. There are hugs and a few tears as Impa tells her how much time has passed, how proud she is before she urges Zelda to sit down again and rings for breakfast.

Zelda finds she is famished.

After a very full breakfast – Impa has to send back for seconds of everything – she retreats to her private bathroom: the hot water and familiar scents feel amazing and she can't stop humming as she washes and brushes her hair, but she forces herself not to linger. Link is waiting.

Her hair is still slightly damp when she puts on her clothes – normal clothes, finally, if Link's tunic was reduced to rags, her prayer gown can hardly have been better, but she won't have to wear it for a while.

The look on Impa's face stops her in her tracks. She knows, knows Impa waited, kept her own sorrow hidden as long as possible to give her time to recover, yet she still wonders how she missed it. “Sit down, Zelda. There's something you should know.”

“What is it?” Zelda asks, her heart speeding up in her chest. “What happened? Did something happen to the Champions?”

“Urbosa, Mipha, Daruk and Revali are well. They suffered no injuries.”

That leaves only one, then, who was most definitely injured... but it cannot be, Link is here in the suite right next to hers, sleeping in a Royal bed with the Master Sword at his side. He's safe.

“What of Link? What's wrong with him, were his wounds infected?”

Impa speaks. Zelda stares at her unblinkingly, uncomprehendingly: she understands all her words, she knows what they mean individually, but their full meaning can't, won't sink in.

Until it does.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN VANISHED?!”

Abducted. What she actually means is abducted. Missing. _Gone_.

What she actually means is “presumed dead,” though she doesn't say, not in front of Zelda.

“How?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer.

Yiga. Of course. The bastards are worse than rats, worse than cockroaches: stomp one down and three more will appear. As her own battle raged, a group had infiltrated the castle, killed the guards posted at Link's door and the healer and apprentice attending him and then had tried to kill him, too.

Tried, and failed: there was not one speck of blood on the white sheets, nor on the discarded weapons they found around it, all sharp and new and yet broken in half, as though they had slammed against a shield as mighty as Daruk's Protection.

When all their efforts had failed, they had taken him away with them. They had also tried to take the Master Sword, but the spirit of the sword had rebelled against servants of Ganon and burned their hands even through the scabbard. It was still burning, no one has been able to move from where it had fallen on the floor.

Zelda sees it for herself when she marches into Link's room: there are no Yiga weapons, no blood on the floor where a brave healer and her apprentice had tried to defend their patient, the bed meant for a Royal sibling who never came to fill it has been stripped again, but the Master Sword is still there, still glowing faintly.

When she picks it up, a feather floats to the ground – a small, white feather, the kind used for stuffing royal pillows, and the princess who faced the Calamity alone and sealed him back into his prison shivers and shuts her eyes. She desperately tries to evoke memories of pillow fights with her parents, white feathers whirling around the room like snow. She tries not to think of a Yiga snatching up a pillow and pressing it down on Link's face as he lies unconscious and defenceless, but the image is burned in her mind anyway. It didn't work, of course it didn't work, they wouldn't have taken him if they could have just killed him and left his body for them to find, yet every breath she takes burns in her lungs.

That's how her father finds her: sitting on a bare mattress with the Master Sword across her knees, staring at a feather.

For a moment, it's everything Zelda always wanted, always needed: her father holding her in his arms, telling her he is proud of her, of everything she has done. That he always knew she could do it.

It doesn't last. Of course it doesn't.

To her father, it's all over bar the celebrations. Her power has awakened, the Calamity, while not completely defeated, has been sealed and if that had been good enough for centuries before, it will be good enough for a few more. He wants the sword returned to the Lost Woods, where it will wait until Hylia calls another Champion.

Zelda clenches her hands around the sword's scabbard so he won't see them shake. She is angry, furiously angry, yet her voice is calm, deathly calm and even as she explains that Link is still alive and the Sword won't obey anybody else but him.

The Yiga have several days advantage, but if they send out the Royal Guard and mobilize the reserves, if they attack them in force and wipe them out once and for all while Ganon is wounded and weak...

Her father doesn't listen. Ser Link fell in battle fulfilling his duty, he will be honoured, he will be remembered, but the King of Hyrule will not go to war over him. The Yiga are indubitably a nuisance, a danger, but now that their god has been defeated, they too will be weak and busy licking their wounds.

If the best they could achieve was assassinate a man already three quarters dead, let them try and warm their pride on that paltry victory.

Zelda's voice is even calmer when she tells him he's wrong: Link is still alive, the fraction of power she invested in him on Mount Lanayru protects him from all harm, but it's also keeping him in a sort of stasis. No, she doesn't know how she did it, but she did and now he must be found. Even if his body heals, she is not sure he could wake up on his own.

Her father scolds her – _scolds her_! – for misusing her power so, for weakening herself right before her battle with the Calamity. Link's duty as her sworn knight was to lay down his life for hers so she can dedicate it entirely to her kingdom. Her first duty is and always will be to Hyrule and its people, not to a single knight.

Moreover, she must remember that, as the wielder of the Master Sword, he was always destined for an early grave, it's hardly unexpected.

She stares at him, suddenly wondering if his coldness in the last years was not just a consequence of her mother's death and her repeated failures, but a deliberate attempt at distancing himself from her should _she_ be the one to fall.

He is relieved now, though he has enough decency to try and hide it, relived it was Link and not her. Is it a King's relief, or a father's?

Zelda doesn't know and doesn't care. She has forgiven much over the years because of the hole mother left in his heart, because it's hard, sometimes even impossible, to be King and father at the same time and the former must ever take precedence on the latter, just like the Princess must take precedence on the child and the girl.

This, she cannot forgive.

She stares at him and says nothing, so, of course, he assumes she agrees, or at least submits to his judgement and will obey him. He pats her head like he would to a child, or a dog who has done well before leaving again.

She turns towards Impa, who had retreated to a respectful distance but still well within sight – and hearing range, too. Again, she says nothing.

Impa crosses the room silently, sinks to one knee before her and bows her head. “The Sheikah are yours to command, my lady.”

Zelda nods, smiles down at the older woman – a genuine smile, this one, displaying all her relief. She'll need the Sheikah, and her Champions, and the Royal Guard. The Zora are sure to help, if only for Mipha's sake, and the Gerudo. She hasn't got a definite role for the Goron and the Rito, yet, but she is sure they will be willing to assist: they, too, have no love for the Yiga clan.

“We will do as my father says and return the sword to its proper place, where its Master will claim it.”

Let them think her docile and compliant. Let them think it's all over. Let them smile and congratulate each other as if _they_ had won Hyrule's safety.

She knows the truth and she will act accordingly. For Hyrule, but also for loyalty's sake.


	3. Chapter 3

_So she's washed his face and she's combed his hair_

_As oft she had done afore oh_

_And she's wrapped it round her middle sae sma_

_and she's carried him home to[Yarrow](https://morvith.tumblr.com/post/621565185138802688/not-my-favorite-version-but-the-most-complete)_

“ _Oh hold your tongue my daughter dear_

_What need for all this sorrow?_

_I'll wed you to a far better man_

_Than the one who's slain on Yarrow”_

“ _Oh Father dear you hae seven sons_

_You may wed them a' the morrow_

_But the fairest floo-er among them a'_

_Was the plough-boy lad from Yarrow.”_

Zelda wakes up gasping and kicking off the covers, sweat running down her face and all over her body. It's hot, too hot, and her skin feels strange, it feels like there's something more than sweat clinging to her that she can't wipe off. Link's heart booms in her ears even though she didn't reach for him and she can smell smoke, can feel the heat rising yet there's no pain.

There should be pain, there should be flames all around, yet her room is still and untouched. There's nothing here, so where...

In a flash, she knows the answer.

_They're trying to burn him!_

She stumbles out of bed and sprints across the room on unsteady legs, the bathroom door crashing against the wall. Somewhere far behind, her Sheikah guards appear into her room, calling out to her, but she's too busy opening the tap as far as it will go and laying down inside the tub to maximize the contact surface.

Clouds of steam rise as the cold water hits her skin. It doesn't feel cold enough – the highest peak of the Hebra Mountains might not be cold enough right now, but this is all she has, so it will work. It has to.

Zelda closes her eyes, reaching down for the string connecting her with Link – it's not real, yet she pictures it glowing red hot, like a fire arrow. She grabs it anyway, gathers all the cold around her like a shawl and then pushes again, sends it cascading down the line.

She thinks she feels something back – a flutter, nothing more than the air moved by the wings of a butterfly, but it feels like...relief? Is it hers or...?

She shakes her head, gathers more cold and pushes it again, this time accompanied by a thought.

_You're going to be just fine. Stay with me, Link. Stay with me._

Time passes. The process soon grows easier, just as the string grows cooler, but she still doesn't doesn't stop gathering and sending, gathering and sending.

Impa's worried face hovers above her and Zelda manages to mutter only three words – Link, Yiga, _fire_ – but they are enough. Impa nods and moves away from her field of vision. Zelda gratefully sinks back into the water and into her string, talking to Link.

She never gets anything back, so maybe it was just her imagination, but she keeps talking to him anyway.

_It's nothing new for us, is it?_ She tells him. _I talk too much and you not enough. If I try hard enough, I can even pretend you're here. Well, just outside the door. Appointed knight or not, it wouldn't be seemly. Can you imagine the scandal?_

No answer, but she wasn't expecting one. Her eyes sting with tears, but she swallows them back.

She pushes her power a little more, trying to get a little more than just Link's heartbeat. It makes her head ache abominably, but it's worth it when she hears him breath in and out, in and out, deep and steady. No coughing, none of that horrid rattling she heard before.

Eventually, the strange, crawling feeling on her skin stops, the heat recedes. It's over. For now.

Zelda takes off her soaked nightgown, dries herself on towels warmed by the fire, lets a maid help her into a clean nightgown and collapses into her bed.

She doesn't leave it for days. Her entire world is darkness and a heartbeat, there's nothing else she wants or needs.

Her maids bring her bowls of broth she swallows without tasting, she interrupts her meditations only to use the utensil and retreats into bed. Even Impa tries to shake her, to speak to her, but Zelda ignores her: answering, explaining requires too much concentration and she has none to spare.

She is too scared to stop, too terrified that if she looks away for too long, the Yiga will try again and she won't be there to help Link. The string will break – will she feel it break, or will it just fade, as though it had never been there? She never wants to find out.

They try to drown him next.

It comes by day this time, and yet it takes her longer to realize what's happening: it starts with a prickling on her scalp, a faint, cold touch on her face – like walking into a spiderweb, only it can't be wiped away.

She lies in bed, shivering, wondering if they know, how could they possibly know, is it revenge for Ganon... but Link still breathes, even without her help.

She still listens and checks over and over, until her head hurts so much tears fall from her eyes and she has to emerge long enough to order all curtains and shutters closed, all lights put out. It hurts so much she can't bring herself to eat, not even the lightest broth.

A few days' rest, then they try again, this time by throwing him into the sea. Zelda tastes salt water on her tongue, feels phantom chains and the vaguest impression of weight around her limbs.

It doesn't work much better than their previous attempt – Link still breathes, his heart still beats, but she wonders whether they are actually trying to kill him this time, or just disposing of him in the most efficient way.

It's a good plan, as loath as she is to admit it: how would they ever get him back from the bottom of the sea?

She won't let them succeed. It's both easier and harder, gathering more power and sending it down the string. Zelda thinks of physics, of theorems and calculations and sends them along as well.

This time she tells Impa much more quickly, but, even though garrisons are alerted and Sheikah warriors are dispatched to the coasts within a few minutes, she knows they won't make it in time: Hyrule is simply too big, too vast, its coasts too long. The Royal Guards are many, but too slow; the Sheikah faster, but too few.

If only she could make him open his eyes, could she see through them? Would she see something useful, something more than sky and waves or an anonymous stretch of land?

If only she could raise a storm, a tempest that would drown all Yiga and carry him away, somewhere safe where he could be found and returned to h– to the Castle...

But she can't. Her power really, really does not work that way, not at such distance.

Her father comes, she hears him talking – at times yelling – but she doesn't hear a single word. She is too busy keeping Link afloat.

Eventually, the taste of salt water fades. All is dark and quiet once more. She checks his breathing one more time, then lets his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

Right before she falls asleep, she wonders: would it sound like this if she were to press her ear to Link's chest? Would he let her? Would he blush and stammer? Would he scramble backwards, for once clumsy and caught off guard, like he did with the frog?

The next few days are calm, uneventful. The only interruptions come from her side and those are annoying necessities at worst. Link's heart never wavers, never falters, never deviates from its rhythm.

She tries to check for more – core body temperature, whether his body is suffering from lack of nutrition and liquids – but she gets nothing. She tells herself it's a good sign.

She's not sure how long she lingers – days, but it could have been weeks, or months.

She will never tell anyone, not even Link, but she's not sure she would have come out on her own – it's peaceful here, and quiet. Perhaps that's why she feels something graze her forehead and then finds herself floating away, back to the world, the string slipping through her fingers like sand.

Impa is waiting for her at a respectful distance, her face blank and grim.

Zelda takes a deep breath, then another. “Nothing, then?”

Impa shakes her head. “Nothing, my lady. The Royal Guard found traces of the Yiga at the Faron sea, but they were long gone.”

She nods, leaning back against her pillow and closing her eyes. The temptation to sink back in the darkness is strong, but... Link needs help. Link must be found.

“We will leave for the Lost Woods as soon as possible.”

It takes her a few more days to recover, but, eventually, the expedition sets out.

The people of Castle Town line along the streets to see the victorious Princess ride by, cheering and clapping and throwing flowers under her horse's hooves.

Those who hoped to admire the Princess' beauty, however, are disappointed: she wears a heavy white veil, completely hiding her face. Only her golden hair cascading down her back remain visible.

When she returns, word soon spreads that the princess wears a veil inside the castle, too, everywhere outside her private rooms.

Some conclude the battle with the Calamity left her horribly scarred. Others say the scars aren't as horrible as that, but, well, she is a young girl: she is bound to take it badly, perhaps one day she will realize that her people could never love her less for that. Others still think the battle with the Calamity, only a week long for them, lasted a hundred years and more for her and robbed her of her youth – admittedly, this story is reputed too fanciful to be true.

When Zelda hears about this, she smiles behind her veils. She used to hate all gossip, rumours and speculations surrounding her, but this is exactly what she wanted. Soon, these stories will spread all over the kingdom.

It may be just a small victory, but she will take it. She needs it, in a way, to countermand her newest failure: upon her return from the Lost Woods, she had arranged a private meeting with her father, where she had tried once more to appeal to her King. She had begged him and pleaded him to search for Link, all to no avail. He had told her that he was surely dead by now and she must accept it, but Hylia clearly had not abandoned them and would send another Champion when the time was right – perhaps long after their lifetimes. In exchange, he had offered her back her research, her beloved Sheikah technology: there would be new duties now, both in light of her age and to prepare her for her future role as Queen of Hyrule, but he wasn't quite ready to give up the ghost. After her great victory, she could make up for lost time.

If he thought it a sufficient bribe to abandon Link, he was sorely mistaken. Still, Sheikah technology would be useful – the guardians hadn't been needed in the battle against the Calamity, but there were other ways they could be effective. There had to be a way to reprogram them for the right task...

It's not ideal. She had been prepared to play the long game in any case, however, this game is shaping up to be even longer than she had anticipated.

_We have time. We have nothing but time. It will be enough._

There's a banquet, a great victory celebration held on the night of the full moon – a white moon, this time, hanging like a pearl in the sky. The four remaining Champions are in attendance, along with all of Hyrule's notables and envoys from the Zora, Rito, Goron and Gerudo.

The princess, still veiled, still dressed all in white with no trace of Royal blue, speaks and it's like dropping a lit candle in a barn full of hay, or a flour mill.

The best part is, nothing she says is a lie. Only the Master Sword can defeat the Calamity, all the legends say so. Her power is currently containing him, keeping him sealed, but their battle is far from over – in fact, from a certain point of view, it is still ongoing.

Her seal will hold, that much she knows for certain, but Ganon will keep trying to get through from the other side: hence, for the good of all Hyrule, she will need to return to his prison and make sure it is secure from time to time.

When? Whenever she feels the call. For how long? It's impossible to know. Maybe days, maybe months. It is what it is, Hyrule's safety and her duty demand it.

The court doesn't quite explode like a flour mill, but it's close enough. Zelda gives a brief nod to her father and walks away without a backward glance, her Sheikah bodyguards falling into step behind her.

Tomorrow, the maids will report that the Princess did not sleep in her bed and rumours will fly that she spent the night in the temple, praying to Hylia for strength and a new Champion, or maybe the return of the previous one.

They are loyal handmaidens, carefully picked. They will not say that the Princess walked past her bedroom and to the next Royal suite – the same Royal suite where the Chosen Hero, her appointed knight had lain wounded.

The Sheikah guards take position outside and leave her alone, curled up on a bare mattress in an empty room.

She reaches for their string – her heart always races when she does so, dreading the day she can't find it or, worse, finds it silent, but that steady heartbeat is always there. She lets out a breath, slowly relaxing into the sound as though it were a lullaby.

  
 _Link. It has already been two months since I last saw you_. She feels tears prickle against her eyelids, though none falls. _It may be a long time before I see you again, but I will find you, I swear. Hold on._

As she drifts off to sleep, she feels something brush against her face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flour mills really can explode - it's called a dust explosion, also seen in coal mines. 
> 
> The version of _Dowie Dens o' Yarrow_ linked in the chapter is not my favourite, but it's more complete. Plus, I had some technical difficulties uploading the one I wanted - the song will return again in a future chapter, so hopefully by then I will have solved them.


	4. Chapter 4

_[Bring me a boat](https://morvith.tumblr.com/post/621931175782629376/kate-rusby-bring-me-a-boat) to cross to my dear_

_I stand here alone, with my sweetheart so near_

_Bring me a boat to cross o'er the Tyne_

_for its deep murky waters part his heart and mine_

_And the Tyne it flows on and out to the sea_

_If a boat I am granted, then safe let me be_

_And gently I'll go, for gently I'll row_

_As gently you breathe as you ebb and flow_

_Does he know I stand each day on the shore_

_Does he know I'd give all to see him once more_

_Does he know I've wept ten thousand times o'er_

_And is he still waiting as he was before_

Princess Zelda is as dutiful as ever: she attends Council sessions, sits at her father's right during Royal hearings and spends most of her spare time either in the library or down at the Royal laboratory, tirelessly working on guardians.

Ask anybody in Castle Town, ask even beyond, they'll all give the same answer.

Sometimes she will disappear for days, weeks, even months at the time, heading down to reinforce the seals holding the terrible beast in place. It's sad and unfortunate, but such is the fate of the incarnated goddess. Everybody is used to it by now.

Everybody knows that's all the Princess does, so that must be true, right?

Wrong.

The first time Zelda leaves the castle alone and without escort, it has been four years since she last saw Link.

Her father doesn't know it, the court doesn't know it. Impa and her Sheikah know, as do the Champions, but nobody else does. None of them had been happy about it, but they had agreed that a test run was needed and it was getting too difficult for her to maintain her serene facade.

She is nervous at first, half-expecting she will be recognized and her scheme will collapse like a house of cards under Revali's gale, but the farther away she goes from Castle Town, the easier she starts to breathe.

Nobody recognizes her – but then, why would they? Most people have never seen her up close. Most of all, she is counting on her disguise to protect her.

The Princess only wears the finest white dresses and dainty shoes, not green tunics, brown trousers and sturdy boots – sensible travel equipment, but common, hardly worth a year's wages as a Princess' clothes surely must be.

The Princess' hair reaches down to the small of her back and shines gold as wheat under the sun, everybody knows that. It's not black as a raven's wing and it most definitely could never be _short._

She is only a traveller on the road, a face in the crowd. It is unbelievably liberating.

Link will have forty fits when he learns about this. He will absolutely have kittens. Go spare. Blow his top.

Zelda grins most un-Princessly as she keeps listing all the synonyms she knows, delving into all Hyrule's languages. That will be fine, though, because Link will have to be awake first in order to be angry, so it will be worth it. Maybe, if he yells long enough, she will forget what he sounds like when he screams in pain.

She is also looking forward to informing that actually, she is considerably safer on the road that at the Castle: the Yiga Clan has started to raise its head again.

Whether they want revenge or hope killing her will weaken Ganon's prison enough to free him, there have been several attempts on her life. Most were stopped by the Sheikah or the Royal Guard, but the last came close – as satisfying as personally cutting the bastard's throat had been, she will wait a while before she tells Link about that one. It's too bad the Yiga wear masks: she would have loved to see the look on his face when he tried to grab her by her long hair and found himself holding her wig. Best of all, he will not be able to pass this knowledge along thanks to the little improvements they made to the Castle, even in the unlikely event of a Blood Moon.

Besides, there's so much she wants to tell him first. She is discovering so many things!

She already knew that Hyrule is beautiful, but she never truly appreciated it, nor how vast it is. There are so many people, too! Travellers, merchants, artisans, explorers, patrolling soldiers... she doesn't really have to rely on her acting skills to play the shy young woman on her first journey, for she is feeling a bit intimidated indeed.

Some people have been kind, some patronizing, some friendly, some mocking, but that had been expected.

She is learning so much! Memorizing trade routes and actually walking them are entirely different things, but it doesn't end there: the food is different ( _Your cooking was better, but I think you'd love it_ ) and the accents ( _Was that why you never spoke at first? Your accent? You had almost lost it when we finally started talking, but it slipped out sometimes. I never told you I like it._ ), and the stories people tell around the fire and the songs they sing.

The songs are particularly interesting: her voice, while trained, does not have the necessary range for the kind of singing that's popular at court, but out here on the road, people like it. People _praise_ it and ask her to sing more. It's giving her all sort of ideas for the next time, whenever it may be, so she makes sure to mention her cousins, who are all so much better and more musical than she is. It's probably unnecessary ground work, but it can't hurt.

That's not the only thing she has learned about herself.

She really can take care of herself – even with the Royal Guards patrolling, moblins and bokoblins are a constant risk, especially for lone travellers. Four years of lessons with Impa have born fruit. Sometimes, Zelda thinks bitterly that if her father had insisted more on martial training than hours and hours of useless prayers, chants and meditations... well, she takes comfort that Link won't have to fight completely alone when the time comes.

Also, she will not go anywhere unarmed. Never again. In the unlikely event she should ever return on Mount Lanayru or revisit any other Sacred Spring, she will carry her weapons all the way to the sacred threshold and the Goddesses will just have to deal.

She is much better at gathering information than she imagined. Not all important news makes it into the official reports, even with official orders to monitor and report all Yiga activity. Zelda supposes it was inevitable: the Yiga are not entirely stupid, they know the Royal Guard is their enemy. However, even they cannot hope to move among the population of Hyrule without leaving a trace, no matter how faint.

Impa might disapprove, but she will have to admit the hard truth: this is not a job for the Sheikah. They stand out too much and, while it's an extremely rare Yiga who won't break character and attack a Sheikah on sight, people just... don't want to talk to them. They're not distrusted, exactly, but they're not seen as approachable – something they have in common with the Royal Guard.

It's nobody's fault, really: there's just so much happening in Hyrule... Moreover, as she once wrote, everyone has his or her own struggles absorbing them. Zelda has even gotten caught up in a few of them, though she can't regret it. If it brings results, it's not a distraction. Besides, she is rather sick of that word.

It will be hard to return to the Castle and its routine when there's just so much out here. Every day brings a new discovery and every night, as she lays down to sleep, she grasps the string tightly and sends everything down – all she has seen, all she has learned, all she has felt.

Link always let her chatter away, about all sort of topics. In truth, she is not sure she'd wish to share this with anybody else, even Urbosa.

Unfortunately, not all discoveries are pleasant.

Impa will be glad of all the leads she has gathered, Urbosa relieved she returned safe and sound and no Yiga even suspected her, but the real objective of her travel has always been another.

Zelda has crossed half of Hyrule all the way to the Faron sea – the last place where they had any trace of Link.

Perhaps it was sentimentality that made her choose this destination, perhaps hope.

Zelda waits three days and three nights on the shore – two more than previously agreed. Each morning after she wakes up and each evening before she falls asleep, she reaches for the string and listens to Link's heartbeat. It remains unchanged, whether she is in Hyrule Castle, in an inn by the side of the road surrounded by people or alone by the sea. She has passed grasslands, forests, lakes, town, villages and lone farms, yet it remains the same.

She had hoped that, perhaps, it would grow louder or fainter. That it could guide her to him.

Zelda closes her eyes and breathes in the fresh morning breeze, his heartbeat drowning out the crashing waves and the shrill cry of the seagulls.

_Field test failed. No matter. It changes nothing. Link is still alive. Wherever the Yiga have hidden him, I'll find him, if I have to search for another ten thousand years._

If what she suspects is true, it's less of an hyperbole and more of a promise, an oath.

_Don't worry, Link. We have got time_.

She is resting for the night in Deya when news comes from the Zora Domain, travelling like wildfire: the Yiga Clan sent a force against Vah Ruta, it's unclear whether they meant to capture the Divine Beast or destroy it.

Zelda is lucky: there's an eyewitness to the battle and she listens to her account with bated breath and a hammering heart.

All around her, people cheer as they hear about the Zora warriors rushing into battle, how the Yiga were wiped out on their tridents, crushed beneath Vah Ruta's feet or drowned by jets of water, leaving no survivors. Somebody presses a goblet in her hand as they begin calling for toasts – to the Zora Champion, the Zora Warriors, the great Sheikah beast, then to the Princess' health and happiness and even to the Princess' Lost Knight and his safe return. Zelda drains her goblet quickly, for once her composure wavering.

_From their lips to Hylia's ears._

Drinking to her own health feels rather weird and self-serving, but she has no such reservation when it comes to toasting to Link. He deserves it, and more.

She makes her way back to the Castle following the planned route. When she finally re-emerges from the lower levels, there are several reports on the attack and a letter from Mipha herself. She reads the letter first, then reads through each and every report.

The sun is setting as she lays the last one down on her desk. Zelda rises from her chair and walks to the window, feeling a little stiff after being seated so long. One of her maids brought her a bottle of juice and a glass on a tray – quite far from the pewter goblets and ale of Deya.

She picks it up absent-mindedly, looking out to the Castle roofs and courtyards, to Castle Town beyond.

_I was right: the official reports don't say everything._

None of them mention the most important thing of all, something she first learned from a Gerudo merchant and had confirmed from the Zora Princess herself: when the Zora charged into battle, they had two new battle cries – “Death to the Yiga” and “For the Lost Champion.”

She closes her eyes and raises her glass in one last, silent toast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't write a song or a poem to save my life, so... pretend there is (or was) a river called Tyne somewhere in Hyrule, please? I couldn't think of a way to replace it. 
> 
> Also, I'm officially changing the update schedule to Thursday and Sunday nights (Central Europe Time). Hope you'll like the next chapters, too.


	5. Chapter 5

_And three he slew, and three they flew_

_and three he wounded sairly_

_'til her brother John came in beyond_

_and wounded him maist foully_

“ _Oh Mother dear I dreamed a dream_

_A dream o' doul and sorrow,_

_I dreamed I pulled the heathery bells_

_on the Dowie Dens o' Yarrow”_

“ _Oh daughter dear I ken your dream_

_And I doobt it will bring sorrow_

_for your ain true love lies pale and wan_

_on the[Dowie Dens o' Yarrow”](https://morvith.tumblr.com/post/622204133542330368/labgraal-the-dowie-dens-of-yarrow)_

Fourteen years after she last saw Link, Zelda is crowned Queen.

It's a strange ceremony – probably the only one of its kind in the history of Hyrule, for all that protocol is followed scrupulously.

Well, mostly: while there is no rule that says the Queen must not wear a veil, there certainly is one about the Royal Appointed Knight and his role. Priests and Ministers make a valiant effort to browbeat the young Queen, all to no avail. Most of their complaints, however, centre on the Commander of the Royal Guard, who hasn't tried nearly hard enough to dissuade her from this...this... well, unacceptable break from tradition. They can't really call it folly, not with the increased assassination attempts, and nobody can say she isn't taking security seriously, but she could have at least appointed the Commander to stand in the Chosen Champion's place, as it is usually done in times of peace, when the Master Sword is at rest.

The Queen, however, will not hear it. The space at her left shoulder will remain empty. It must remain empty because, in case they have forgotten, they are _not_ at peace. She is still struggling with the Calamity and she might be called to battle at any moment. The Master Sword has a wielder and, until he returns, nobody will take his place, symbolically or not.

If they are worried about her safety, they can rest easy: she has gone over the entire ceremony with the Commander and she will be surrounded by an entire Company of Royal Guards at all times.

And not just any Company.

1st Royal Guard Regiment, 2nd Battalion, Company C.

Strictly speaking, it's not Link's Company any more: the men with whom he served have moved up the Ranks, retired or have been transferred, if only to other Companies or the 1st Battalion, though she still took time to track them down and arrange for special invitations.

That's not the point, however. Priests, Ministers and courtiers might miss the significance, but not the Royal Guard. They haven't forgotten that Link was one of them, that the Chosen Hero first came from their ranks.

The Royal Guard remembers.

* * *

* * *

Twenty-two years after she last saw Link, the Yiga Clan falls.

They have been on the defensive for years, now: first the mysterious changes at the Castle, then the absolute death trap that was the Zora Domain... It was hard to say which one was worse: no Yiga sent to the Castle ever returned, even with the Blood Moon. Those who died in the Zora Domain – and die they all would, the Zora had proved even more implacable than the fallen Sheikah – would eventually return, but they were never the same after that. Most refused to leave the desert and the sight of any body of water deeper than a puddle would render them almost catatonic or screeching with fear.

If all that wasn't bad enough, somehow the Sheikah had managed to modify the Guardians: the cursed things are everywhere in the country, able to scan through even the most elaborate disguise and...well, act accordingly. Dozens of warriors fell to them, blasted into pieces: they cannot be fooled or avoided without raising suspicion and, once detected, there's simply no escaping them.

Little by little, they have been pushed back into the desert from every other region – Eldin was first, then the Zora Domain, Central Hyrule, Lanayru, Necluda, Akkala, even Hebra.

They had thought the desert would save them once more, that they would be safe in their secret fortress until their Lord's power broke through once more and swelled their ranks again...

But they have come before the Blood Moon: Gerudo, yes, but also Royal Guard, Sheikah, Gorons, Rito archers, even the Sand Monster and the Bird of Hebra. An immense force, led personally by the Queen.

Once, such an army could have never been assembled without them knowing. Once, they thought their fortress inviolable, unassailable – some foolish Sheikah might try and infiltrate them, but who could ever be mad enough to try and take it by force?

The Royal Guard, that's who.

The stolen Beasts might have opened the way, the Gerudo, Gorons and Rito might have blocked all escape routes and mopped up the last pockets of resistance, but it was the Royal Guard that stormed through the wall and fought its way through room by room, inch by bloody inch.

The Clan Master has lived many lives, but the image of blue-clad Hylian demons bleeding, screaming, dying and yet still fighting, still advancing, will follow him in all his reincarnations.

Part of him wonders whether the Unholy Queen has enchanted them. Part of him knows no magic could have forced such result, that it could only be obtained through sheer force of will and courage. It stirs something deep inside him, a vague echo of long lost memories.

Once, perhaps, he was a man who had seen such feats, who had even taken part in them. No more, though. His choice has been made long ago and he wouldn't renounce it even if he could.

Besides, even the Yiga can die well. They have proved it over and over again, but especially today of all days.

He's not sure what his next life will bring – nothing good, he expects, not for the Clan Master who lost their fortress and never mind that nobody short of Ganondorf himself could have held it – but today he has reason to be proud. The Yiga Clan may be broken, vanquished, but the Unholy Queen had to pay a heavy price for her victory – and for what?

They shall rise again. They always do. Moreover, this victory will have no sweetness for her.

He watches her closely, surreptitiously trying his restraints again. Nothing, but he had expected that. Still, she is so close, it's an irresistible temptation.

She watches him, too, standing in their fortress' entrance as though it were her own parlour, dried blood on the hem of her white dress. Her eyes, the only part of her face he can see clearly, are eerily calm.

By now, her pet Sheikah have finished exploring their former domain and packing away all their weapons, scrolls, books and treasures. Their home has been ransacked and searched from top to bottom, then from bottom to top again, every wall sounded for passages or walled niches, no stone left unturned. By now they must have told her.

She must know, yet there is no pain in her eyes.

Almost against his will, he finds himself speaking first. “I expect this is payback for the tower?” It had been a damn good plan. Building a magical construct perfectly matching the Hero's looks had been a headache and a half and the whole operation had taken longer than planned, but, as expected, the chance of rescuing him had proved too hard to resist and they had almost got her. Almost. “In that case, congratulations on your victory, Your Majesty.” The Sheikah dogs bristle at his mocking tone. One of them moves to strike him, but she stops him with a gesture without ever looking away.

“I don't suppose you will talk?” She replies calmly, almost conversationally.

“About what? You have our books and scrolls, you have discovered all our secrets and traps, you have even taken our trophies.” He grins maliciously behind his mask, unable to resist a last jab. “Although perhaps not quite _all_ of them...”

Something flashes in her eyes, something deep and dangerous. The jab hit home, but he suddenly wonders whether it was worth it.

“Where is he?”

“Who, Your Majesty? Have you misplaced one of your subjects?”

Another ripple among the Sheikah, but they do not move. “Let's not play games, Clan Master. You know perfectly well who I am talking about.” Her eyes are boring into him like the rays of her accursed Guardians. “After all, _you stole him from me_.”

He is not a fearful man – a fearful man doesn't make the choice he did, or rises to Clan Master – yet her voice sends a shiver down his spine. She doesn't shout or hiss, there's no threat, no rage, it's entirely too human to be a Goddess' voice, and yet... and yet... He thinks of a rumbling landslide, of ice cracking underfoot, of flashing fangs in the dark of the night.

“Your knight is dead.”

“He isn't.” She is looking at him again, so infuriatingly calm and certain.

“He died screaming. Begged us for death by the end. You're late, Your Majesty. Twenty-two years too late.”

She tilts her head to the right, looking at him as though he were saying that sun rises in the West, or that fish live on trees. The worst part of all, there's no derision in her gaze. No, there's something else and he wants to rage and curse her, wants to break through his chains and snap her neck. He closes his eyes instead.

When he can bring himself to open them again, she is looking around the room – at the gouges and scorch marks, the abandoned arrows and broken blades. She is looking at the blood and piles of bodies – all Yiga, of course. The Royal Guard lost dozens, maybe hundreds of men; Sheikah, Gerudo, Rito and even Goron paid the price, but they were all taken away, all cleared out.

“Was it worth it?” The Queen murmurs, so low he can barely hear her.

“Your knight? You should tell me.”

She shakes her head, her veil and long golden braid dancing. “Not him. Do not misunderstand me, I realize you must have suffered horribly and there can be no excuse for my family's betrayal, but everything that came after – your rage, your revenge, choosing Ganon... even this. Was it worth it?”

That's not a question he expected to hear from her. That's not a question he expected at all and he finds he cannot answer.

“You'll never find your precious knight,” he growls instead. “Even I don't know where he was taken: after their mission was completed, the entire band that hid him committed suicide as ordered. You may have your Sheikah dogs torture me, my answer will not change. Without the sword, you cannot defeat our Lord and even your power cannot hold him forever. You'll have to kill your Champion yourself and hope your beloved Goddess picks another in time, although she has never been prompt in answering your prayers, has she?” He shrugs, or at least tries. “Enjoy your victory, Your Majesty. Whether he dies by your hand or not, you have doomed your kingdom for the sake of one man. Today you put us down, tomorrow our vengeance will find you. The Yiga Clan always rises again.”

“Does it?” Suddenly, she is standing right in front of him, so close he can see through her veil. He doesn't see the knife in her hand until it's buried in his gut and pain radiates through his body. “I think you forgot one thing.”

His knees buckle. Such a small, tiny thing she is. Her eyes are old and hard, but they don't fit in the rest of her face, much too young for a woman of almost forty. The knife twists, withdraws.

“Tell me, Clan Master, what is my power?”

His legs give in. Even from the floor, she looks too small, too young to inspire the pure, utter terror that spreads through him. She can't mean... she can't be that powerful...

The Queen turns and walks away with her Sheikah guards, leaves him bleeding on the floor of their hideout. He can see the opposite walls of their canyon and a slice of blue sky through the open door. Then, a beam of light as red as rubies, as red as blood. A second beam lights up, and then... then the word explodes in white-blue light.

After that, nothing.

Outside, Zelda lowers her hand and watches the fortress crumple in itself, burying all Yiga under several tons of rocks. She doesn't move until all the dust has settled and the once impregnable stronghold looks a rockslide, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the canyon.

“Was that really necessary, little bird?” Urbosa says quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I don't want you to strain yourself too much.”

“It's not too much. I can handle it.” Zelda replies. “As for necessary...” She sighs. “I'm not sure. I'm not even sure it was wise. I can't hold them forever and when the time comes, I'll have to prioritize the Calamity.” And Link, if she still hasn't found him by then, always Link, but Urbosa knows that already.

Urbosa doesn't ask her if it really was revenge. She wouldn't mind even if it was – it has been years since that accursed tower, but she will never forget how Zelda broke down in her arms when they had finally been alone. She had wept for the Royal Guards escorting her, half of them dead and the other half wounded, and for what she perceived as another failure.

Only the Sisters know what dark, dark thoughts Urbosa had entertained as Zelda sobbed it had been all her fault, she should have known it was too easy, too good to be true, but it looked just like Link and she thought she had found him at last. She had been so happy to have found him, so relieved and then it had all crumbled with the illusion when she had reached out to touch him.

“They'll be furious when they return, but, well...they're the Yiga Clan. Who'll be able to tell the difference?”

Urbosa nods. “If they have any sense, they'll be too terrified of you to make too much trouble.”

Zelda snorts. “Sense? The Yiga Clan? Be serious.”

Still, it was a tactically sound decision. Hyrule will be at peace and though Zelda hasn't felt able to leave her post since her coronation, someday she will take the road again and renew her search.

* * *

* * *

Thirty years after she last saw Link, a Blood Moon rises. The Yiga Clan does not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hyrule Royal Guard is badass. That's my head canon. 
> 
> Speaking of which, this chapter was admittedly head-canon heavy. 
> 
> First, my version of the Hyrule Royal Guard is closely based on the Italian _Carabinieri_ : they're both a military force and a law enforcement agency with domestic policing duties.  
> The 1st Carabinieri Regiment is known as _Corazzieri_ (Cuirassiers) and constitutes the honor guard of the President of the Italian Republic (previously of the Kings of Sardinia and Kings of Italy). The same goes for the Hyrule Royal Guard, with the 1st Regiment assigned to the Castle and guarding the Royal family. Hyrule Royal Guard does not have a minimum height requirement, unlike the _Corazzieri_ (190 cm./6'3"), or Link would be shit out of luck.
> 
> Fun facts: The Carabinieri motto is _Nei Secoli Fedele_ (Loyal throughout the centuries), while the Corazzieri motto is _Virtus in Periculi Firmior_ (Courage becomes stronger in danger). Both suit Link perfectly, don't you think? 
> 
> Second, the Yiga Clan, or where I went and chucked canon out of the window. 
> 
> In this version, the Yiga Clan isn't just the descendants of the betrayed Sheikah warriors, they **are** the betrayed Sheikah warriors (plus whoever they recruited or joined them through the centuries, but non-betrayed recruits are a minority).  
> Ganon's power keeps them anchored to this plane of existence and returns them to life at the Blood Moon (or even earlier when he's not sealed), but there was a price to pay: they retain all their skills and combat abilities, but their personal identities and memories end up being... somewhat scrambled, especially after multiple deaths and reincarnations. The only thing they all remember well enough is the reason that pushed them to join, but that's it: even the first Yiga do not remember their original names or their first life as Sheikah.
> 
> The difference between them and, say, boblins, bokoblins and lizalfos is that the latter are a natural part of nature and get co-opted and resurrected by Ganon only when he's active. A Blood Moon with a sealed Ganon will not bring them back. A Yiga warrior will always return with the Blood Moon, no matter how many years ago he/she was killed. Usually.
> 
> Also, in case you were wondering, the Yiga Clan Master in this chapter is not Master Kohga, but one of his predecessors - in spite of their immortality, there is some flexibility inside the Clan structure. The bad news is that dying doesn't get you out of paying for whatever mistake you made in your previous life.


	6. Chapter 6

[ _Cold blows the wind tonight, my love_ ](https://morvith.tumblr.com/post/622564007538294784/kate-rusby-the-unquiet-grave)

_cold are the drops of rain_

_I never had but one true love_

_in greenwood he lies slain._

_I'll do as much for my true love_

_as any young girl may_

_I'll sit and mourn upon his grave_

_for twelve months and a day_

_The twelve months and a day being up_

_The ghost began to speak_

“ _Why sit you here and mourn for me_

_and will not let me sleep?”_

“You must be wondering why I asked you to come...” Mipha says softly, toying nervously with her cup.

Officially, the Zora Princess has invited a “Hylian wandering minstrel” to her private parlour to listen to her songs. Unofficially, Zelda's secret identity is the Zora Domain's both best known and best kept secret: she really couldn't hope to fool the Zora, so she hasn't tried.

Not that she has had much chance to fool anyone in recent years: she has a responsibility to her kingdom. Apart from the Yiga War, she has only left the Castle on official business as the Queen of Hyrule, but it's nice to stretch her legs for once.

“A little, yes, but I'm just grateful you did,” she says, helping herself to another tart. “The Council needs a trial run. All preparations have been in place for years, it was high time to test whether they can stand in my absence. I probably should have done it years ago, but...” she shrugs. “You know how it is.”

Mipha smiles. “True, there's always just one more thing that needs doing.”

Zelda smiles back encouragingly, waiting.

Mipha looks back down at her cup. “How is Revali?”

“Not... not well. Hasn't he written to you?”

She nods. “Yes, but you know how he is. Both his wings could be broken and he'd say it's just a scratch. Especially to me.”

“He is writing a letter for Link, like Daruk did before...” Zelda looks away. Being a Champion always carried an inherent risk: each of them could have fallen in the battle against the Calamity – perhaps even all of them. No one could have imagined this outcome: one Champion missing, the battle stretching on and on without end and the others falling to the passage of time one by one.

Daruk had been the eldest among them, Mipha the youngest. As a Zora, it was a given she would outlive them all. Zelda had never considered what it would mean for her until she found herself living through it as well. In a manner of speaking, because Mipha has grown, but Zelda hasn't aged a day.

“I offered to go fetch it before I return to the Castle, but he refused. He'll send it by special courier when he hears I have re-emerged.”

Mipha nods. “Perhaps I should do it, too. Write Link a letter.”

Zelda gasps and almost drops her cup. “Mipha, are you... is there...”

“Oh! Sorry, no, I'm well! Perfectly healthy! It's just...” She runs a hand over her face. “Things will be different, when he wakes up.

“But you will be there to help.” There's no reason why she shouldn't be, right?

“Of course I will,” she replies, and there's an edge of steel in her voice, as if daring the universe to try and stop her. “But... It won't be the same as it was before.”

It's not something Zelda likes to think about, but it's undeniably true. Link, Ganon and she herself might be in a sort of stasis, but the rest of the world is not and cannot be. “True, though I suppose it could be worse. I do hope having at least a couple of familiar faces around will help him adapt.”

“Has there been any news? The Royal Guard is still searching, right?”

“Of course they are. To be honest, at this point they wouldn't stop even if I gave them the order myself.” She frowns. “The last time some idiot courtiers tried to suggest it was time to lay the Hero to rest and search for a worthy successor to the Master Sword, Commander Rih practically said there would be a riot.”

Mipha's eyes widen. “Did he, really?”

“He had to repeat himself a couple of times and use progressively smaller words, given his audience, but if you know how to read between the lines yes, he did. Not that I'm surprised. You should have seen him the last time somebody told him Link should be taken off the Active Duty Roster.”

“Link is still on Active Duty?”

“Formally, yes, though his pay has been suspended. Hasn't he ever told you of the Out on Permanent Patrol list?”

Mipha shakes her head. “No, and it doesn't sound like anything we have, either.”

“It's a very old tradition of the Royal Guard,” Zelda explains. “Unless desertion or death are confirmed or the body is recovered, lost Royal Guards are said to be Out on Permanent Patrol.” Mipha is silent. Zelda is used to silence, knows how to use it, but this time it unsettles her and she feels compelled to fill it. “Anyway, it was stupid of them to complain. The Royal Guard is just paying extra attention while fulfilling its regular duties: as far as special assignments go, this one doesn't cost us a rupee more than usual. They should know better than meddle with Royal Guard traditions.”

“You don't think they will manage to find him, though.”

Zelda shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “That's a bit unfair, Mipha. I hope they do, with everything I am, but... well, we are supposed to be bound by destiny. If that's so, I don't think destiny will be satisfied with a patrol accidentally stumbling over him while chasing moblins.” She can't help but grimace bitterly. “I'd rather he were found soon than be the one to do it, but we all know how much the Goddess listens to me.”

Mipha says nothing, and for a moment Zelda fears she has horribly offended her. Before she can try to apologise, Mipha stands and retrieves an ornately carved box from a niche in the wall, setting down on the table between them.

“I know it's hard for you, Zelda,” she says gently as she sits down again. “Nothing could make us happier than having Link back with us, but... I confess thinking you'll be the one to find him is a great comfort to me.” She visibly steels herself, then pushes the box toward her. “I made this for him a long time ago, but I wish to give it in your care now. Will you take it with you in your travels, please? It shouldn't weigh much and... I want you to give it to him when you find him.”

Zelda frowns and opens the box – Mipha wouldn't lie about her health, would she? Then she catches a glimpse of blue cloth and black scales, the light glints on round shoulder guards and vambraces. She lets go of the lid as though it burned her, her mind racing with all she knows of Zora customs, of Mipha and Link.

“Mipha, that's... I can't possibly give it to him! It's yours! You... Is it even allowed? Shouldn't it be destroyed if...” She leans forward, her eyes flashing with anger. “Are you being pressured into picking a husband? Because if so, I can stop it.”

Mipha shakes her head. “No, no, it's not that. Nobody is pressuring me, I assure you. I just...” She looks down at her hands, clenched in her lap. “I'm afraid my feelings for Link have... changed. I can't give him that tunic any more, but he should have it nonetheless.”

Zelda can only stare at her in astonished silence, caught in a maelstrom of clashing thoughts and feelings.

Eventually, Mipha speaks again, still avoiding her gaze. “For a long time, he was my first thought when I woke up in the morning and the last when I lay down to sleep at night. Everything I did, saw and felt brought me back to him. I was always thinking 'would Link like this, what would Link say to that'. And then.... then one day I woke up and I didn't think of him at all, not for hours. When I realized it, I ran to my room and cried.”

“Oh, Mipha...” Zelda whispers, and it feels so completely inadequate. She knows hundreds of songs with hundreds of variations, about young love, unrequited love, lost love, all very epic and dramatic and sad, but how does one sing about love that has just...gone out, like a lamp that has run out of oil?

“I tried to hang on to that. I made myself think of him when it didn't come naturally, I went through the memories of our time together over and over, but...” She bows her head further, as if trying to make herself smaller.

Zelda moves to her side, gently takes her hands between her own. “But it wasn't enough. It has been too long.” Maybe in songs and stories, people can love a shadow, a memory, but this is real life. It has been forty-seven years since they last saw Link. “You grew up and moved on. As it should be.”

Mipha still won't look up. “Do you... do you hate me for that?”

  
“WHAT?! No, of course not! Who dares?” Her power is awake again, tingling just under her skin.

Her anger startles the Zora Princess, her eyes finally meeting Zelda's own. “No one. It's just... it feels like I failed him. Like I gave up on him.”

“Bull- Rubbish. You still love him, don't you? Even if you are not in love with him any more?”

“Of course.”

“When he needs you, will you be there for him? As his friend?”

“Of course!”

“Then you haven't failed him, or given up on him.” Zelda reaches out and pulls her in her arms, embracing her tightly. Even sitting down, Mipha towers over her. “Link wouldn't have wanted you to stop living for him.”

She embraces her back, some tension draining away from her body. “It's just so unfair... I was in love with him since we were children, when everybody either disapproved or thought I'd grow out of it, then he grew up too fast, was swallowed up in his duties, and now... now that no one would oppose us...”

Zelda feels tears fall on her shoulder. “You did nothing wrong, Mipha, nothing. Please, don't blame yourself. There's nothing wrong with wanting to live and be happy.”

“I thought I could do it. I thought I could wait for him and it would finally be the right time...” A deep, heart-wrenching sigh. “But that has already happened, back when we were children. That was our time.”

Zelda doesn't know what to say, so she hugs her tightly and lets her cry on her shoulder.

It doesn't last long, Mipha has probably already wept almost all her tears in the last – months? Years? As she came to terms with her feelings. These are the last.

Mipha pulls back, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “I'm sorry...”

“Don't you dare apologise,” Zelda replies, sitting back down. “You're my friend, too. I want you to be happy and Link would agree with me, you know that.”

“You haven't asked, but... there's no one else.”

“And even if there was, there would be nothing wrong with that.” Zelda says, tilting up her chin, her own voice edged with steel. “You aren't proving them right, you know. Muzu and all the other narrow-minded old fogeys like him. Just because your feelings changed, it doesn't mean they weren't real or deep.”

Mipha smiles a little. “Thank you, Zelda.”

Zelda smiles back reassuringly. “I'm just telling you the truth.”

“Would you... would you mind terribly if we talked some more? About Link? You spent a lot of time with him.”

In some ways, it will hurt, horribly so, Zelda knows it already. On the other hand, there is still so much she doesn't know about Link, so much she never had time to learn...and she, too, hasn't really talked about him in a long, long time. “If that's what you want, I'd love to.”

So they trade memories and confidences well into the night.

They don't talk about Zelda's 17th birthday, for which she is immensely grateful. Songs have been written about the Champion's Last Stand, she has learned them all and sung them without batting an eyelid, but she cannot talk about that night, not now and probably not ever.

The songs are easy: they're so completely fanciful and inaccurate, they could be about any Hero, any Princess.

Luckily for her, Mipha is probably the last person in the world who wants to hear about it. She is also a veritable well of information about Link's childhood adventures, though Zelda has a hard time reconciling the loud, reckless, half-wild boy he used to be with her quiet, proper appointed knight. Although, taking on a guardian with a pot lid is perhaps a little reckless.

She drinks more tea, eats more sweets, listens and occasionally bites back tears. She laughs, too, like she hasn't done in years.

It's nice. No, not just nice, it's a true balm for the soul, refreshing and regenerating like spring rains.

Zelda's list of Questions Link Will Not Be Allowed To Wriggle Out Of Answering has more than doubled in length.

Mipha seems to feel the same, minus enormous list of questions.

“Thank you for everything, Zelda. It was good to talk about it...about him. People love him, but they're always talking about the Champion. I haven't talked about Link in so long, I was afraid I was starting to forget him.”

Zelda forces herself to smile. “It's the least I could do.”

Melancholy is a dark veil over her heart, guilt a monster clawing at her insides. She hides it, pushes it down as far as she can because she is here to comfort Mipha, _not_ the other way around, but... Mipha notices. Perhaps her voice wavers, perhaps her expression betrays her as her gaze lands on the box once more. Perhaps Mipha simply knows her too well.

Whatever the reason, Mipha lays a hand on her shoulder.

“It wasn't your fault,” she tells her softly, absolutely out of the absolute blue.

Zelda presses her lips together and doesn't reply.

Mipha presses on, gentle but inexorable. “This whole situation. What happened to Link, but also what will not happen between Link and me, none of this is your fault.”

“How can you say that?” Zelda says, knowing that Mipha will not let it go, so she might as well get it over and done with. “If I had awakened my powers earlier, we wouldn't have needed that fucking pilgrimage. Or if I had waited for you to find us, if I hadn't used them on him so soon...”

“He would have... he wouldn't have survived.” Mipha interrupts her, her voice solemn. “Not long enough for me to reach you. Trust me, Zelda, I may have not been able to use my healing power on him, but I didn't need it to see the marks his wounds left behind. Believe me when I say he wouldn't have survived.”

“Then I should have kept him safer. I should have been quicker, I should have gone out and searched for him right away.”

Mipha pulls her into a hug, just like Zelda did hours before. “No one could have predicted the Yiga Clan would regroup so soon, or that they would abduct him. We all thought the Castle was safe. As for finding him, you have done everything in your power and more, all the while running your kingdom and keeping the Calamity down.”

“I stole his life. His parents, his relatives, his friends... they are either dead or old already and I still haven't found him. Do you think he'll thank me for that?”

Mipha smiles. “He won't hate you. He could never hate you.”

Zelda doesn't feel like arguing. “I can only hope you are right,” she says tiredly.

Mipha hugs her once more, muttering something about Zelda's father and the fact that a healer could theoretically commit the perfect murder if only the designated victim wasn't already dead, then bids her good night.

Zelda retreats to her guest room: it's pushing her cover, but neither Mipha nor King Dorephan would hear of letting her lodge at the inn and right now she is too tired to mind.

She crawls under the blankets and reaches for the string, as she does every night. She will not send the news down like this, for all that she's not even sure Link can hear her. This, he deserves to hear from her, to be told face to face.

_I'm sorry, Link...I'm so, so sorry, for everything. I'm sorry I wasn't better._

It's not the first time she lets the thought slip through. It's not enough, nothing could ever be remotely enough to make it up to him, but it's the least she can do. She doesn't actually expect he will forgive her.

As she drifts off to sleep, she feels something on her face again – the lightest suggestion of touch ghosting down her cheek, brushing against her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have already listened to this chapter's song, you may have noticed the first two verses don't match those quoted in the text: that's because they are from the very first version I ever saw, so... I'm claiming poetic license.
> 
> The Hyrule Royal Guard's tradition of counting missing soldiers whose death is pretty much certain but cannot be officially confirmed as Out On Permanent Patrol was inspired by a US Navy tradition: lost US submarines are said to be "on eternal patrol".


	7. Chapter 7

[ _Black is the colour of my true love's hair_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIbRYqwBcVg)

_His lips are like some roses fair_

_The sweetest smile and the gentlest hands_

_I love the ground whereon he stands_

_I love my love and well he knows_

_I love the ground whereon he goes_

_I wish the day will one day come_

_Where he and I will be as one_

Seventy years after she last saw Link, Queen Zelda leaves Hyrule in the hands of her Council of Representatives and walks to battle, disappearing underneath the Castle.

Seventy-one years after she last saw Link, a young minstrel begins wandering around Hyrule. A rather striking young woman, with bright green eyes, short hair dyed an improbable purple, carrying a dulcimeron her shoulders. Pretty, though certainly not as beautiful as the Queen, who wears a veil lest any who see her fall hopelessly in love with her.

( _Stupid fucking court bard. On the bright side, Link will laugh himself sick when he hears that one. Hopefully. It would be so nice to hear him laugh..._ )

It's not a decision she takes lightly and she does spend one year strengthening Calamity Ganon's prison before leaving, but she cannot wait any longer.

It has been too long already. She is too tired, stretched too thin, pulled in too many directions. It must end. One way or another, it must end.

Castle Town, the Castle itself and all of Central Hyrule have already been searched from top to bottom multiple times, but they were always the least likely locations. The Royal Guard has done its best, both Gerudo and Zora have searched their respective lands as thoroughly as possible, but Link remains missing.

It must be her, there's no other way.

_Destiny better prove fucking useful for once. If I can't find him..._

She has a plan for that, too, but... it's difficult. Dangerous. So much she has never confided it to anyone, not Impa, not Purah, not even Mipha or Urbosa. Especially not to Urbosa.

She privately calls it “pulling the plug”, an expression she picked from Robbie. She will die and so will Link, but they should be able to either drag the Calamity down with them or seal him for another thousand years.

The whole cycle will find a way, eventually. It always does.

The interrupted Royal line will be a mess and a half, but she'll be damned if she passes this burden to her daughter or any other descendant. The Goddess will have to get creative.

She has already done her best for Hyrule: the Council was specifically designed to function independently and indefinitely. Maybe someday that institution too will fall to scheming and corruption, but it will be out of her hands. It will be up to the people of Hyrule to make sure it doesn't happen. She has given them the best tools she could, there's nothing else she can do now.

Somewhere from the deepest recesses of her memory, her father's voice calls her selfish again – and isn't it great, isn't it just wonderful that, with all the things she has been forgetting, both distant and recent, she remembers that?

But she eighty-eight years old, now, not seventeen.

_Go to Hell. You don't get to spend eleven years of my life telling me my sacred duty, my greatest responsibility, my one and only concern must be saving Hyrule from the Calamity and then be surprised when I go out and do exactly that._

It is nice to be back on the road, to be able to concentrate only on one major problem and not have the weight of the whole kingdom on her shoulders. So what?

Saving Hyrule means saving Link. There is no other option.

So she hoists her dulcimer on her shoulders and sets off. She follows the roads up until she disappears in the wild, plays and sings for her supper and a bed or volunteers to run errands and do chores.

This time around she is even better at it – all of it, fighting moblins and bokoblins and even lizalfos, surviving alone, helping people, playing and singing. Part of her still finds it surprising, but it helps, it all helps when day after day proves fruitless.

She should be proud of her divine power, proud that she managed to unlock it after such a long struggle, but she is not. The price was too high and she cannot forget that it came almost too late.

Of this, though, of her skills learned or refined on the road, she is proud. This is something wholly, completely hers. This is something she truly earned.

Her journey begins South, once more on the Faron grassland, then she moves West, to the Gerudo highlands and eventually the desert.

She finds no trace of him, but she gets to spend Urbosa's last years with her, even be by her side when she finally passes. She knows what's coming, unlike how it was with Mama, but it doesn't hurt any less. She still can't regret it.

For months afterwards, she falls asleep to a sensation she can only describe as warmth, even though she doesn't feel it on her skin – something like the memory of an embrace, but stronger. What the idea of an embrace should feel like.

She walks out of the Gerudo lands with a fourth letter to Link, a complete set of Gerudo paints and the knowledge how to use them best – or worst.

Marvellous things, those paints, better than a mask. Hylian Princesses and Queens wouldn't be caught dead wearing them, it just isn't Done. A young, wandering bard with flaming red hair – obviously the result of some dye – is a whole different matter.

After years in the desert, it is strange to return to the rest of Hyrule, so much greener and crowded, but she quickly finds her feet again as she makes her way North.

She pays special attention to all news regarding the Council's work, but so far she hears nothing that would require her direct intervention.

She also learns new songs, as some of those she knew have fallen out of favour – though not, sadly, the blasted “Champion's Last Stand”, which has instead developed more variations.

Still, she is a minstrel, and a damn good one at that, so whatever they ask her, she sings. She sings of ancient heroes and plough-boys, faithful sailor-boys and faithless soldiers, but they always tell her she gives her best when singing of lost times, of lost loves and farewells.

Everybody likes tragic love stories, provided it's not their own.

Perhaps it's cheating: hers is not a love story.

North-West Hyrule and the Hebra region take her a lot of time: so many mountains, so many caves and nooks and crannies and possibilities. She ends up going back and forth between Hebra and Eldin, which has the same problem but comes with a whole different temperature.

After that, it's South again, this time to Lanayru and then Necluda. Deciding whether to go South again or press East to Akkala had been hard, but...It has been eighty-six years since she last saw Link and she is tired.

Not tired enough to stop searching, never that, but her burden is starting to weigh on her: in all these years, Ganon has never stopped throwing himself against her barriers, over and over again. She can reinforce them from a distance, she has been doing that all along, but... she cannot keep her power split three ways indefinitely.

She refuses to fail Hyrule after all this time, but she will have to let the Yiga Clan return, sooner rather than later.

She needs some measure of comfort, so, South it is. Mipha greets her with open arms in the Zora Domain, Impa meets her Kakariko and gets her up to speed on everything and anything that has been happening in Castle Town.

She doesn't quite rest as much as they would like, but it's still immensely helpful to work with her friends, not being completely alone.

Ninety-six years after she last saw Link, a Blood Moon rises, and so does the Yiga Clan.

She simply can't hold them any longer. Both Impa and the Gerudo chief assure her their people will be enough to keep them busy, even if the Blood Moon started rising every night.

Still, it's not good. They are running out of time.

_Where are you, Link?_

(No answer except grief and sorrow and she can't tell whether they are his or her own)

She has searched everywhere, from the desert to the mountains, including loathed Mount Lanayru, to the coast all the way down to Soka Point and Eventide Island and back.

There's only Akkala left. If he's not there... if the Yiga have taken him out of Hyrule... It doesn't seem likely: the Royal Guard had kept a very close eye on all things and people leaving Hyrule from the start, and can the Yiga even go beyond Hyrule's borders, with Ganon's Malice and magic keeping them alive and on this plane of existence?

Zelda doesn't know, but she doesn't think they can. The Clan Master had said it had been a suicidal mission, but what if they... failed? Disintegrated? Before Link could be safely hidden? Besides, what if they wanted to recover him, if only to try and kill him again? Could they risk putting him somewhere they might not be able to reach again?

Her heart tells her Link is still in Hyrule. She only hopes it won't steer her wrong.

She closes her eyes and grabs onto the string tightly, breathes deeply until her heart slows down its panicked hammering and matches Link's quiet beat.

_Just a little longer, Link. Hold on. I'm coming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr wouldn't let me upload the song file, so I'm afraid you'll have to make do with the YouTube link.  
> Also, the lyrics quoted and those sung don't match (again), but it's my favorite version and "Black is the colour of my true love's hair" is one of those folk songs that's quite easy to modify with a pronoun change. 
> 
> The last chapter will be up next Thursday.


	8. Chapter 8

_For loves awaits the dawn_

_And the dawning_

_Sweet voice of morning_

_Shall call his name_

_I'll keep a vigil 'til the glow of sunrise_

_When he'll be mine_

_This everlasting hope for love_

_Bereaves the night of silent rest_

_Oh night, depart!_

_Ere the morrow_

_Stars on high grow paler_

[ _At daybreak he'll be mine_ ](https://morvith.tumblr.com/post/623200501598732288/deanna-durbin-none-shall-sleep-tonight)

_Mine at last_

_At last_

In Akkala, close to the Spring of Power, Zelda finds the last thing she ever expected to see: ancient Sheikah symbols that most certainly weren't there the last time she came this way, carved in a rock that's severely out of place and most definitely didn't get here all the way from the Gerudo Highlands on its own.

It's a map. It has to be. Why else would it be here, exactly at the same distance from the Spring of Power as she and Link were from the Spring of Wisdom when the ambush was sprung?

She can't help but shiver, both at the memory of that awful night and at the realization of what the Clan Master really meant when he said it was a suicide mission. The Yiga soldiers tasked with hiding Link didn't just commit suicide, they entered the Sacred Spring and in doing so not only destroyed their bodies, but also completely obliterated their souls and minds from existence.

They are gone forever. No power – no Blood Moon, not even Calamity Ganon himself – could ever restore them.

Zelda cleans out the moss and vegetation that has grown over the years, then grabs her Sheikah slate and starts taking pictures of the carvings and the stone itself, from every angle. Next, she starts measuring and taking notes, collecting every possible scrap of data no matter how insignificant.

She copies everything down on her travel journal over and over, filling all the remaining pages – some of which will be ripped out and sent by courier to Impa, Purah, Robbie and Mipha for study and safekeeping – then she weighs her options. A Goron mace would be extremely useful, not to mention satisfying, if only she could lift any of them. For a moment, her heart clenches remembering Daruk and his Boulder Crusher. He would have loved one more occasion to strike back at the Yiga Clan.

Still, no need to break her sword or one of her knives, no matter how satisfying an application of brute force might be. She pulls out her Sheikah slate again, taps a certain image and a glowing blue cube appears at her feet. Placing it right under the carvings and moving back to a safe distance is a matter of seconds. One tap on the image again and the rock disintegrates. Soon, the forest will hide all traces it ever existed.

_That's three to one for me, Yiga Clan._

For the first time in years, her heart soars. She has a hint, a direction – it doesn't matter that, even to her highly trained eye, the symbols spell nothing but gibberish, they are a starting point.

It doesn't matter whether the Yiga Clan has tried to distance itself from the Sheikah to the point of deliberately changing the meaning of the symbols in their ancient language or the map was written in code: there's no such thing as an unbreakable code.

_I might have to learn to think like a Yiga,_ she sends through the string with a theatrical shudder. _Honestly, the things I do for you._

She unsuccessfully fights back a giggle, suddenly struck by the urge to laugh and a deep feeling of amusement.

After all the extra copies have been sent to their respective destinations, Zelda considers whether to return to Kakariko or stay and explore Akkala. In the end, the latter option wins: she tells herself the Yiga might have left other clues, the map might even be the first of many, but the truth is that she is just unwilling to leave. As much as she loves Kakariko Village, the mere idea of travelling there only to have to come back, of staying put for weeks, maybe months... no, it's unbearable.

Link must be here somewhere, he must be close: she has explored all of Hyrule and found no other sign, she will not waste precious time travelling back and forth. The Akkala Citadel is as far South as she is willing to go.

Who knows, she might even find his hiding place completely by accident. She doesn't actually expect it to happen, but a bit of luck at this point would not be amiss.

It takes more than a year, but the answer finally comes: Link was hidden on an island – which means she has been searching exactly in the opposite direction.

Zelda turns East, cursing the Yiga Clan at every step and putting down every Lizalfos stupid or unlucky enough to get in her way. At least she was right to stay here: she has already explored every island South of the Lanayru Sea without success.

The biggest islands, known as The Four Brothers, take her almost six months, then she heads North.

One hundred years, one month, two weeks and five days after she last saw Link, Zelda stands on a beach on what her map tells her is the North-Easternmost point of Hyrule, staring at a small arc of land out to sea.

There are many small islands dotting the coast of Akkala and she has explored almost all them. This is the last one.

It has no name, but if it all goes well, she will have it named Last Hope. If not... well, she won't waste time naming it anything: she will go back and search every island in Akkala, every island in Hyrule again.

She just really, really hopes it won't be necessary.

She has to wait for the tide and the wind to be right, but once she sets sail, it doesn't take her long to reach her destination. Once the boat is secure, she starts searching – by now she has it down to a science, and this time there must be some other sign, if only to signal that this is the right island.

She expected the Yiga symbol, or maybe a sickle if they were trying to be subtle. Apparently, the Yiga clan's idea of subtle is a detailed carving of a bunch of bananas right next to a pile of rocks that, on closer inspection, cover the entrance of a cave.

She could probably clear it out in seconds with another bomb, but she can't see how deep the cave goes, or how stable it is inside, so the old fashioned way it is. She works for hours, taking occasional breaks for food or water, until the mouth of the cave is completely clear. Even then, the light reaches only a few feet inside.

Zelda takes one last sip of water, then lights a torch and steps inside. This is the right way, it must be. Although she wants nothing more than run ahead and finally end this endless search, this long wait, she forces herself to move slowly, carefully.

There are a couple of traps, just as she expected, but nothing truly impassable. She keeps walking until she reaches the bottom and the cave opens again in a wider chamber – the walls still bear the marks of human tools used to make it larger, but Zelda doesn't see them because the light glints on a earring, on dark blond hair. Across the room there's a ledge and on that ledge lies as though asleep a young Hylian man.

She knows his face. A hundred years gone, so many things she has forgotten – her mother's voice, her father's laugh, the names of most of the younger generation of servants, nobles and Council members – but she hasn't forgotten his face, not even a little. He hasn't aged a day, just like her.

“Link.”

She crosses the cave carefully, cautiously – she hasn't forgotten the tower and the ambush and this would be just the right place for one last trap.

Nothing happens and finally she stands next to him, can look at him properly for the first time since Mount Lanayru. She understands, now, why people talk about drinking in the sight of somebody.

Her eyes linger on his scars – she knows every single one even if it's the first time she sees them with clear, unclouded eyes – on the rising and falling of his chest and the sound of his breathing.

Her hand still trembles as she reaches for him, as she places two fingers on his pulse at the base of his neck – his skin is warm over solid flesh, he doesn't turn to smoke under her fingertips. His pulse flutters under her hand, an exact match to heartbeat she hears through the string.

_It's you. It's really you._

She forces herself to take a deep, steadying breath, then another, trying to calm and order her tempestuous feelings.

He is found, but he isn't back yet.

One more moment of self-indulgence, then she moves her hand down the middle of his chest, concentrates on the string and sends down _calm_ , _reassurance,_ though _joy_ and _giddy relief_ manage to slip through.

_It's time to wake up, Link. Are you ready?_

Something reaches back through the string – _fear_ , the metallic taste of _panic_ , as if he were unwilling to let go, and though it startles her, she quickly reassures him.

_It's all right. Everything is fine. I'm here, I'm right here with you._

She waits until _fear_ recedes like the tide, replaced by _acceptance_ – and something that could be _anticipation._

_I'm starting now. Don't be scared, I'll be here. I won't leave you. I won't ever leave you._

Slowly, carefully, she starts gathering her power back, lets it flow back drop by drop. No rush, this time, no pushing, just a slow, gentle, continuous ebbing and flowing.

If it takes hours or minutes, she couldn't say. The string goes last, it doesn't really break as much as just... fades.

For the first time in a hundred years, she is completely alone inside her head.

Zelda opens her eyes, though she doesn't remember closing them. Link's chest still rises and falls under the palm of her hand, his heart still beats. She leans down to watch him closely, but he doesn't look any different, he hasn't lost any colour.

Reluctantly, she steps back, takes her hand away.

“I guess it's not an immediate process,” she says out loud, needing to hear something as she searches through her bag for an extra blanket and drapes it over him. She is not cold, but... well, she is rather more dressed than he is. At least he still has his underwear, though she couldn't say if it's the same he was wearing the last time she saw him or that was the only thing the Yiga managed to burn and then had to provide a new pair.

Funny, Yiga Clan and modesty are not two concepts she ever thought to associate, and yet. She tries not to giggle at the picture of the fearsome Yiga warriors dragging around a naked, unconscious Hero, cursing every step of the way. Now that he is right here with her, it can be a funny image.

She checks the time on her Sheikah slate, then lights another torch. After a while, she builds a small fire and sits down to wait.

She tries not to stare, not to startle at every sound, but it's hard.

Hours pass and he doesn't wake. Zelda nibbles on a couple of apples for her dinner, her stomach too twisted in knots to allow anything else, and checks her stores of food over and over.

_Is it enough? I was so hungry after just one week, he must be famished after a hundred years... I should have packed more apples, he loved– **loves** them. _

She absent-mindedly reaches for the string and stumbles when she remembers that it's not there.

Night falls and he doesn't wake. She paces, ostensibly to stretch her legs. From time to time, she checks his pulse, his breathing, and everything looks always fine.

She picks up her dulcimer only to put it back down, tries to hum a few songs, adds more wood to the fire so it won't go out. She tries to keep vigil, but exhaustion overtakes her and she falls in a light, restless sleep, awaking every few hours just to see nothing has changed.

She tells herself that she's being ridiculous, there's nothing wrong, he just needs a little more time, yet her rebellious heart doesn't listen.

It's almost sunrise and still he doesn't wake. She checks his pulse over and over again, at both wrists and at his neck, even presses an ear to his chest, but it never changes, it never speeds up or slows down. It sounds just like it did when she could hear it in her head. Now she has nothing.

“Wake up, Link. Open your eyes. Please, please, open your eyes.”

Her greatest fear, the niggling doubt she had buried deep and kept down all these years emerges again. Perhaps she didn't actually save him. Perhaps what she did to him was worse then killing him.

Zelda collapses to her knees and presses her head against the ledge, her body wrecked with tremors.

“Link...”

She wants to tell him she is sorry, beg him not to leave her but the words won't come. How could words ever be enough? She has ruined everything, everything, even in victory she was a failure and why is she still breathing? Why doesn't her heart break, why doesn't it burst?

_Strike me down, Hylia. Strike us both down and start again. Choose someone else, I'm not doing this without him. I'm done. We are done._

Unbidden, the words from one of her songs rise to the top of her head, a strange spot of calm in the whirlwind of too many emotions, too much pain and disappointment.

_Just one kiss of your lily-white lips_

_And that is all I crave_

_My lips are cold as clay, my love,_

_My breath is heavy and strong_

_If you had one kiss of my lily-white lips_

_Your time would not be long_

It's just a song, just a story and she has already stolen so much from him, she shouldn't take this too, but, at the moment, it seems a good idea. Perhaps this last failure has been too much and she has gone a little mad.

_One kiss. Just one. Perhaps it will be enough – oh Goddess, let it be enough, I'm so tired and I never wanted his blood on my hands, though it seems I'll have it anyway...At least in this, let us go gently._

She pulls herself up and leans over him, bracing a hand on the other side of his head. He still looks asleep. Peaceful.

_Goddess, let it be peaceful._

Before her resolve falters, she bends over him and presses her lips against his, trying to pour every word, every feeling in that kiss just as she used to do with their string.

She feels a spark, a jolt, like a circuit closing and then Link _moves_ – his eyes are open, staring straight into her own, and she feels a hand tangle in her short hair, gently cupping the back of her head.

She is vaguely aware she makes a noise in the back of her throat, but it doesn't matter because Link is awake, he's back, he's here in her arms. Her heart feels like it might burst from joy.

Eventually, Link pulls back, looking up at her, his eyes warm and twinkling like stars.

“Zelda...” he whispers, sounding awed, almost reverent. “ 'm not dreaming.”

He had never said her name in that tone, but she is relived to find she hasn't forgotten the sound of his voice.

“Welcome back, Link,” she says, even as her voice trembles and she has to blink back tears.

His hand moves to her cheek and they are slowly leaning towards each other again when his stomach roars instead of merely growling. Link freezes and Zelda can't hold back a giggle, her laughter setting him off as well.

_I knew it! I knew he'd sound lovely when he laughs!_

“Come,” she says, rising and heading for her pack. “I've brought food. You must be famished.”

“Starving,” Link sighs.

Afterwards, it's surprisingly easy – there's food and drinks, then clothes, and a few more kisses in between neither bothers to count, but in the end, it's time to return outside, to the real world where a monster still waits for them under the Castle.

Once they emerge from the cave, Zelda watches Link lean back against the rocks, basking in the sunlight with his eyes close and breathing deeply the fresh sea air. Her heart clenches.

There's really no easy way to say it, so she simply does. “Our battle is still before us, but many things have changed. You have been asleep for a very long time...for a hundred years.”

“I know.”

“You do?!” Panic starts rising again, only to disappear like mist in the sun when Link leans forward and takes her hand.

“I wasn't exactly aware of time passing, it was more like... like dreaming. I remember things. Feelings. Songs.” He squeezes her hand. “Your voice.”

There's no anger, no hatred in his eyes, yet Zelda cannot hold his gaze.

“Daruk, Revali and Urbosa...They are gone, aren't they?” His voice is so devastatingly gentle.

“Yes. They left you letters, if you want them. Mipha wrote you, too. She is still alive, it's just that... that...”

“She has moved on?” Zelda nods. “Good. One hundred years is a long time, even for a Zora.” He casts her a sideways glance. “For the record, we were never... I had a crush on her when I was a child. I'll always care for her, she'll always be dear to me, but after I grew up, after I got the Sword, it just... It was too much. There wasn't room for anything else, you know?”

Zelda does know, she remembers only too well the pull between life and duty. “I'm sorry. I should have been quicker. In all things.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“Yes, it was! Everybody suddenly started hailing me as a hero afterwards, as if I had actually defeated him and not just bought us time – acting as though you weren't needed! And you...I took so much from you. You've lost a whole century! Your father, your friends, Mipha... That's my fault, it was my fault you were helpless, you were trapped!”

“I didn't feel trapped. Before, yes, since the moment I picked up the Master Sword, but never after you saved me.” He turns away. Something flashes on his face – shame, doubt, fear of failure, all things she saw often enough in her mirror but should have no place in his heart and mind – and he tries to let go of her hand, but she doesn't let him. “I... I'm not sure I can do it. In truth, I never was, but now...”

“We don't have to go back now.”

He turns back to her, his eyes wide. “What?”

“I said we don't have to go back now. Calamity Ganon is trying to get out, true, but I can pour all my power in keeping him down now. The Council has been ruling in my stead for the past thirty years, they can last a few more. If you don't feel ready to face the Calamity now, let's wait.”

“And what do we do in the meantime?” He asks, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

Zelda smiles and squeezes his hand. “Travel around Hyrule. Help people. Get ready. I had to put the Master Sword back, so you'll have to reclaim it. Oh, and Mipha will want to see you, she'll never forgive me if don't bring you right away. After that, well, there are more monsters than even the Royal Guard can keep up with and I've studied all the Shrines I've found: they are definitely meant for you and I'm pretty sure there's more I didn't find so we could...”

She trails off. Link is smiling. Really smiling. “All right. Let's do that. Let's take our time.”

Zelda smiles back. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

She simply has to kiss him again, and it feels different, doing it out here in the open, under the sunlight. It feels like a promise, like their lives are truly starting again.

“I'm sorry I let you face all this time alone,” Link whispers, holding her in his arms.

Zelda debates punching his arm, but that would mean letting go, so she just pulls him closer. “Don't you dare. I was the one who left you alone.”

“You didn't. I was never alone.”

She is momentarily distracted by his lips on hers again, and his hands tangling in her hair, but his words linger in her mind.

_No, we never were, were we? And now, we never have to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when you thought I had managed one fiction without inserting opera... All joking aside, Deanna Durbin's version of  
>  _Nessun Dorma_ is very particular and has been a great inspiration for this last chapter. I highly recommend you give it a try. 
> 
> The other song quoted in this chapter is the traditional ballad _The Unquiet Grave_ , the same as chapter 6. I linked Kate Rusby's version back in Mipha's chapter, but I decided against doing it again since it's missing half of the relevant quotes. Sorry, I should have checked earlier. 
> 
> Since I couldn't find a canon date for Zelda's birthday, I arbitrarily picked May 1st, the old first day of spring.  
> To save you some calculations, Link awakens at dawn on June 21st, on the Summer Solstice.  
> (If anybody needs dates, feel free to steal these)
> 
> Thank you to every one who read, commented and/or left kudos! You are all amazing and I hope you liked the ending.


End file.
